My potager began life in 2007 in a neglected corner of my suburban Washington D.C. backyard, bounded by three fruit trees and my imagination. With my husband's help (and the assistance of a rented rototiller), we broke ground, forming a heart-shaped plot with a small central diamond with four paths leading off. Though I typically eschew gas-powered devices (and honestly loathe them), the heavy clay soil in our area made it a necessity, if only to mix in the needed amendments for our soil. With each passing year, my potager becomes more lush and unruly, with little meddling from me, hence the title of my blog, "Anarchist Potager." It is more an expression of my desire to leave nature (mostly) to its devices rather than a commentary of my political leanings.